


In Your Best Interest

by OneEightActual



Category: Frozen (2013)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-04-14 16:18:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4571262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneEightActual/pseuds/OneEightActual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the King with his two daughters in the Valley of the Living Rock, the trolls take action in the interest of the King. Or so they say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Your Best Interest

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't quite know what I was doing with this so sorry if it seems incomplete. Comments are always welcome.

  
  


* * *

"How come you can do that and I can't?" asked a young Princess Anna.

"I don't know. I wish you could though." replied Princess Elsa.

* * *

The King came in the middle of the night. His arrival was entirely unexpected; in fact, it was initially detected as an intrusion. The King's party radiated substantial mystical power. The trolls, though armed with their own powerful crystals and enchantments, cowered in the face of the great forces that entered their valley.

They could sense it-a great conflict between two discrete forces. One raged like a blizzard, throwing jagged bolts that cut through the air like a hail of razor blades. The other struggled and flickered and sputtered and whined. A battle was taking place, and the valley was the reluctant battleground.

The trolls disguised themselves as boulders, hoping the battle approaching would spare the valley. Hoofbeats pounded the fertile ground. Two pale horses with four riders burst into the centre of the valley. The riders dismounted, the ground turning to ice where the second-smallest of the party stood.

"Please, help. My daughter!"

Cautiously, the trolls approached. They removed themselves from their disguises. One of them called out:

"It's the King!"

The trolls were hardly a welcome sight in the Kingdom of Arendelle. Tales of knavery, and trickery, and cruelty were the only tales told about trolls by the common folk. But the royal family were of a different creed. Unlike the kings and queens of many other lands who sought power and profit, the rulers of Arendelle strived to protect their people, and protect their kingdom. The trolls benefited immensely from the toil and efforts of the kingdom against foreign intruders who hoped to destroy the trolls, or to seek them out for their own profit. The trolls, reaping the benefits of the kingdom's hard-earned peace expanded their mystical capabilities to unprecedented levels. Their understanding of the ethereal and the occult had grown a hundred-fold.

Now, standing before them was the King, the Queen and their two daughters. The king's daughters had been blessed with, or perhaps had acquired great magical capacity; but it was now clear they had misused it. The younger daughter with the reddish-gold hair, was being devoured by the wolfish force born of snow and ice. It was clear that this magicks had come from the daughter with the pale platinum hair.

The patriarch of the trolls, Grand Pabbie, came forward. His firm boulder chest dangling with protective crystals, he took the older daughter's hand, assessing her powers.

"Born with the powers or cursed?"

"Born." the King answered hastily. "And they're getting stronger."

Even at this age, the girl's powers were strong. They were phenomenally strong. They had an elemental strength, the likes of which the trolls had never seen. In the hands of the wrong people, the power could bring about mass destruction. The patriarch motioned for the Queen to bring him the younger daughter.

The Queen knelled. She held her child out for the troll to examine. She kept her grip tight on the cloth-wrapped bundle. The troll placed his hand on the child's forehead and considered his course of action. The younger daughter had been struck, in the head with a bolt of ice. It was eating away at her, chilling her to death. Any normal girl would have long become a statue of ice. But this girl possessed great power. Like her sister, she had an elemental strength, but this one, hailing not from frost and snow, but from flame and sun. The luminous candle that was the reserve of her magick flickered away, as the cold closed in. Her heart was struggling, channelling all its strength to resist the frost growing inside her skull.

"You are lucky it wasn't her heart. The heart is not so easily changed, but the head can be persuaded."

"Do what you must."

It was the King's direct approval for the trolls to take any measure to save his daughter. The troll patriarch decided immediately. His choice benefited the trolls as much as it benefited the king.

"I recommend we remove all magic, even memories of magic to be safe..."

The troll turned to the elder daughter. It was clear that she had no malice when striking the younger with ice. It was likely that she did it by accident. She loved her dearly, she was concerned that the troll's remedy would erase every trace of love that she endowed upon her.

"But don't worry. I'll leave the fun."

The troll began casting his magic, a cloud of memories appearing in the air. Slowly, the tendrils of frost clutching them dissipated into the air. The troll gathered the cloud of memories and implanted them back into the child.

"She will be okay."

"But she won't remember I have powers?"

"It's for the best," the King told his elder daughter.

The troll patriarch cast a projection for the daughter and the King to see. In the projection, the daughter, now Queen is attacked by her subjects. The projection achieved its intended effect.

"Listen to me, Elsa, your power will only grow. There is beauty in your magic...but also great danger. You must learn to control it. Fear will be your enemy."

On all of its targets.

"No. We'll protect her. She can learn to control it. I'm sure."

A female troll, the one called Bulda moved to comfort the King and his family as the troll patriarch moved away from them under some pretence. A small flame appeared in his stony hands. His back turned to the royals, he began his work. He held it gingerly, stroking its edges with a red fire crystal. The flame grew. Quickly, Grand Pabbie captured it in a vial which he placed underneath his mossy robes.

The trolls considered themselves experts in two things, only one of which was to be taken seriously: love and magic. Fickle humans and their selfish desires were impediments to the advancement of their art. As Princess Elsa has clearly demonstrated, even the pure-hearted royals of Arendelle could not be trusted with this power. Even if they did not exercise their powers maliciously, humans could not be trusted to safely use magic. Magic though beautiful, is dangerous. While the elder princess's powers were far too powerful to be removed surreptitiously, there was no such obstacle in removing younger princess's less-developed magical capabilities. The trolls, rationalised their decision to remove the younger princess's powers as a favour to the King. It would be hard enough keeping one magic wielder under control. Arendelle would collapse under the burden of another.

Of course, the trolls did profit handsomely from acquiring Princess Anna's powers. Years later, when the younger princess returned, her heart frozen by the elder princess, now Queen, there was talk of returning the powers so that her heart can be unfrozen. While the spell on her heart was strong, it was not so strong that the Princess's excised powers, grown under the ginger care of the trolls, could not undo it. The decision was quashed, and the Princess was told to go unfreeze her heart herself. No mention was made to her of her powers.

But some time later, a great threat emerged. It was threat so great that the trolls with their crystals and enchantments were powerless against it.

Grand Pabbie, the troll patriarch, eyed the glowing white vial containing Princess Anna's powers as he held it between his thumb and forefinger.

He hoped the Princess would be able to handle having fire powers.


	2. Better Guards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently the Queen's most loyal protectors, the Royal Guard was held in the highest esteem.

"We really need to hire better guards." said the Princess.

Of all the soldiers in the room, it was Lieutenant Martin Djupvik of Her Majesty's Royal Guard that took the least offence.

"Your Highness, I assure you, Her Majesty's Royal Guards are professionally trained and highly competent."

Martin had many things to say about that, but decorum dictated that he needed to keep quiet lest he be removed. He wasn't really supposed to be in this meeting. The meeting was supposed to be between the Queen and her Colonel. But of course, the Princess dragged anyone wearing uniform into the room. And there lay one of the many problems that plagued Her Majesty's Royal Guard: Nothing was a secret. Martin wondered how the Princess' remark would colour the Royal Guard's perception of her.

Apparently the Queen's most loyal protectors, the Royal Guard didn't seem so loyal when they stalked up the North Mountain, swords in hand to capture the Queen, with the foreigner, Prince Hans of the Southern Isles. The Kingdom was in chaos, but instead of taking charge and maintaining Arendelle's integrity, the Royal Guard had bent to the will of a foreign prince. Martin himself shared part of the blame. He was part of the party that found the Queen in her ice palace, fending off the Duke of Weselton's bodyguards. Alone.

It was him that insisted to personally carry the Queen down the mountain. The moment the Queen was rendered unconscious was the moment he realised how vulnerable she was. Prince Hans refused, but before he could utter a word, a Royal Guard was already cradling her in his arms.

His name: Private Alex McDonald.

Martin decided at once to stop thinking about it. McDonald, born to foreigners, occupied enough of his time.

"Yes, your Highness, I certainly agree. That can be arranged promptly with Her Majesty's approval."

For the first time in the meeting, the Queen spoke.

"My father had his reasons for staffing the castle's guard at this level. Before we make any changes, I would like to consult my other officers."

The Queen's head turned and faced Martin.

"Lieutenant Djupvik, do you think it is necessary that the castle's garrison be increased at once?"

Martin stared into the young Queen's deep blue eyes. He wondered what would happen if at that moment she smiled.

"Lieutenant?"

"Yes, yes. Increase the castle's garrison. I..."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. It is settled then. The castle's guard will be augmented. I will be expecting numbers and time frames by the next meeting, Colonel Hansen. Now regarding the vulnerabilities discovered by Princess Anna during a climb to the rooftops..."

* * *

It was raining in the capital of Storholm. Typical. She would have to find lodging for the night, and quickly. The quickest boats out of the country were in the capital, yet here was the city where her pursuers made their home. How ironic it was that in her quest to escape danger, her escape route cut through the heart of it. Suspicions rose that she was being lead here intentionally. But whatever the case, she would have to think about it later. As she entered the inn, she hoped she wasn't spotted by the soldiers in the tavern across the street.

She was immediately drawn to the fire the moment she walked in. Occupied with watching her surroundings, she failed to notice how long she had been out in the rain. She was soaked. A short woman of around age 50 approached her.

"Sweatheart, do you need a place?"

"Yes, a room would be nice."

"All our rooms are booked, but there is one lodger who is willing to share a room. For a cost."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not interested."

"She's very eager."

And at that, she was introduced to a Ms. Phoebe Ayres. In return, she introduced herself as Ms. Claudia Ashley.

"Your accent sounds rather interesting, Miss Claudia. Whereabouts do you come from?"

"Whytepool, Miss Phoebe."

"Ah, Whytepool. You're a northern lass aren't you?"

While it was true that Claudia hailed from the north of Storholm, Whytepool was a far cry from the highlands of Aberfoyle. Still, it would have to do. After all, who is a lodger from the capital to tell the difference between an Aberfoyle and a Whytepool accent?

"If anything, I can't stand a northern accent. Yours isn't too bad, sweetheart, but by god, those people from the Albian counties-Aberfoyle and such," said the short woman.

"Don't mind her," said Phoebe. "I think your accent sounds lovely. A lovely accent for a lovely girl. Shall we have dinner?"

Dinner was served by the fireplace at Phoebe's request. Only Claudia, Phoebe, and the older woman, whose name was Mrs. Brown, were present. Mrs. Brown explained that the others had already eaten. Over dinner, Phoebe explained that while not a permanent resident of Mrs. Brown's inn, she more or less lived there, performing services for Mrs. Brown's to pay for her lodging. She said the pay was good and plenty was left over to spend at the market.

"So Claudia, will you be staying long?" asked Phoebe.

"Unfortunately, no." She quickly thought up a story.

"I need to pick up my cousin Esther from the city before going back to Whytepool. Her parents are ill, and I have been instructed to take her into my care."

"If I may be so bold, perhaps she could live here." said Mrs. Brown. "She would be more comfortable in a such a familiar place. She could do work for my customers as well."

"I'll be sure to mention it to her."

Claudia could feel her damp cape slipping from the back of her chair, so she turned around to adjust it. In the process, her satchel, which was resting on her lap, fell to the floor. Claudia ducked under the table to pick it back up which let her cape fall off. When Claudia came back up from under the table, it was in Phoebe's arms.

"I can hang this over the fire if you'd like."

"That would be great, thank you."

"It's a really beautiful cape, almost as beautiful as you."

"Thank you. It uses a novel sort of dye to make this shade of purple. Very vivid. It's also the same dye used for my coat. Have you seen these at the market yet?"

By the time dinner was finished, Claudia found herself exhausted. Phoebe led Claudia to their room.

"I could sleep on the floor if you'd like," said Claudia as she entered.

"No, no, it's fine. We could share if you don't mind."

"It's okay, Miss Phoebe. All my clothes are wet and-"

"Here, let me take them off." Phoebe approached Claudia from behind. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders.

"Miss Phoebe-"

"Please, just call me Phoebe. Let me help you."

Claudia stood still as Phoebe removed her coat. She could feel the weight of Phoebe's head resting on her shoulders. Her coat dropped to the floor. She could feel fingers, on her arms, on her chest, on her thighs. Claudia squirmed.

Phoebe's hands rested at the hem of Claudia's chemise. "Lets get this off. You could never go to sleep wearing this."

Soon, Claudia found herself cold and exposed.

"To bed now." Phoebe dragged Claudia by the arm towards the bed. "To bed."

* * *

"Squad! Fall in!"

The resounding order from a Corporal immediately sent the room in a flurry of activity. At the end of the commotion, Sergeant Alex McDonald's section had managed to assemble itself into a loosely formed line. Martin was not impressed. Still, it was a better effort than most of the Royal Guard if not most of the army. To the chagrin of his subordinates, Martin made sure of that.

"Stand easy." commanded Martin. The men relaxed. Martin approached the Corporal.

"Corporal Pedersen, is this where your unit is supposed to be right now?"

"Sir, yes, Sir!"

"Has Sergeant McDonald explicitly allowed you to be here?"

"Sir, yes, Sir!"

"Playing cards and drinking?"

"Sir, yes-"

"Stop saying 'Sir' at both the beginning and end of your replies!"

"Sir, yes...Lieutenant...Sir!"

Martin shook his head.

"In spite of the castle gates being open, the castle is not. The guards in your area of responsibility have not been relieved for 12 hours. Where is Sergeant McDonald?"

"I do not know, Sir!"

Martin sighed. This sort of thing was typical with Sergeant McDonald, and despite every effort of Martin's to stop it, Alex McDonald always found a way to escaped unscathed. But that wouldn't stop Martin from trying. Desertion was a serious offence. As Martin led McDonald's unit to their post, he wondered where Sergeant McDonald could possibly be.

* * *

Knock. Knock. Knock knock. Knock.

It was the same knock every time. Every time she saw Elsa was like the first time all over again.

"Come in."

The door opened. There was Elsa, sitting at her desk, a soft smile on her face. As usual, she looked absolutely

"-gorgeous."

"Thank you."

"I hope I didn't wake you or anything."

"No, it's fine. I haven't gone to bed yet."

"Is that the throne speech you're working on?"

"Yes, it is. I'm hoping to present it to Parliament when Princess Rapunzel is in town."

"Speaking of which, have you figured out the places you'd like to show the Coronan delegation around?"

"No, I haven't. I was hoping I could ask you for some suggestions."

"That's great because I've made a list already. From the castle we'll go to the town square, since I want to show off the market. It's always full of cool stuff. Then, we could go to Florian's since it's the closest and get them some flangendorfers..."

Corona, ruled by relatives of Arendelle's royal family, was a country located to the south of Arendelle, across the North Sea. Its largest trade partner, Arendelle could always trust Corona in times of crisis. Following the young Princess Elsa's accident with Princess Anna, the royal family went into a hermitic isolation to the detriment of its trade and foreign affairs. Arendelle became highly dependent on Corona to advocate on its behalf. Corona was an unwaveringly loyal ally. The Royal Family wanted to be sure to express their gratitude for the Kingdom of Corona's support.

"That sounds great, Anna. I'm sure Rapunzel will have a blast."

"There's one extra thing I was hoping to add, and I've budgeted just enough time to do it."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"I was hoping we could pay a visit to Kristoff and the ice harvesters. We'd have enough time to visit his family as well."

"I don't know, Anna. Have you asked Kristoff what his thoughts are on this?"

"Not yet, but I'm sure he'll love it. The harvesters would love the attention."

"I was thinking more about his family. They're not a very open people. You should really talk to Kristoff about this."

"I'll get on it as soon as I can."

There was a pause. Then, Anna rubbed Elsa's shoulder.

"Anna?"

"Hmm? Oh, I'm just making sure you're actually there. It's just so weird, actually seeing you. But in a good way!"

"It is." Elsa forced a smile.

Anna yawned. "Well, I'm off to bed. See you tomorrow then."

"Night, Anna."

* * *

The door to the inn opened, a uniformed man stepped in from the rain. He looked young, but determined. The innkeeper approached him.

"Sir, do you need a place?" asked the innkeeper, "Or can I interest you in something else?"

"Lieutenant Martin Djupvik, Northstream Guards. A warrant has been issued for the return of a crown ward to His Majesty's custody. I have suspicion that she is in your dwelling, and I have the authority to search it at once."

"What?! You shall do no such thing! You look nothing like an officer of the Northstream Guards!"

Without another word, "Lieutenant Djupvik" pushed past the innkeeper, up the stairs to the rooms. Before the innkeeper could stop him, the door burst open. A dozen soldiers fanned out across the room. A soldier in an officer's uniform barked an order. Two soldiers seized the innkeeper by the arms.

"Miss Brown, I am arresting you under suspicion of operating a bawdy house." said the officer. He turned his head to the stairs. "Go find that imposter. And if you find the girl from Aberfoyle, arrest her!"

Upstairs, "Martin" was checking each room for his quarry. Some occupants of the inn were roused from their slumbers. Others were occupied with other activities and not sleeping at all.

There was a shout from the stairs.

"Stop! Northstream Guards!"

"Martin" quickly ducked into a room and locked the door. He turned towards the bed. There, a weeping girl lay, face turned away from the source of her distress, who sat on top of her like a leaden weight.

"You have the wrong room, sir," said Phoebe.

"More than the wrong room, I'm sure." The person who called himself "Martin" reached into his greatcoat and retrieved a palm-sized slab. It glowed a bluish-white and gave an unpleasant numbness to those who touched it. "Martin" tied the object to the doorknob. "Martin" pulled a flintlock pistol from his greatcoat.

"If you're in trouble with the law, this is a bad place to be." He fired a shot at the object.

There was a flash and a bang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter was a bit jumbled, too many cuts between characters. I'll try to fix that next time.


End file.
